


Felicity Dies But Still Won't Take Oliver's Brooding Manpain Crap

by srmiller



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2260854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Felicity knows her partner well enough to guess that should she die Oliver 'Brooding Manpain' Queen will attempt the tried and true 'shut out world and grieve forever' bit so she does whatever she can to make sure Oliver lives-REALLY LIVES-after she's gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Felicity Dies But Still Won't Take Oliver's Brooding Manpain Crap

“You can’t do that to me. It’s not fair.”

Those words echoed in his head long after the video had stopped, long after the screen had gone dark on the computer.

_You can’t do that to me. It’s not fair._

Today was the funeral and Oliver hadn’t been certain he’d be able to go. The past five days had been some kind of agony brought about by a cruel and vengeful god. Every breath had hurt, every stutter of his heart reminded him hers didn’t beat anymore and he hated it.

But Thea had railed at him and reminded him how he’d missed their own mother’s funeral because he’d chosen to hide away, although Roy had nodded his understanding. Digg (after the couple had left) simply handed him a DVD.

“What is this?”

Digg had shrugged, those large shoulders moving the black cotton of his jacket, “She told me to give it to you if anything happened to her.” 

Tears choked him, clogged in his throat. The force it took to keep them held back nearly killed him. Not that this would be the first time he’d cried in front of his best friend in the days and hours since time of death had been called.

Digg had officially seen him at his worst and still hadn’t walked away.

“I can’t,” Oliver shook his head, staring at the DVD as if it was a ticking time bomb. “It hurts too much.”

“It’s always going to hurt too much,” Digg told him honestly. “But are you trying to tell me you’re going to turn away from the chance to see her one more time?”

“Did she make you one?”

The older man’s mouth turned up in a smile, soft and amused,“Yeah. Yeah, she did. She made one for all of us.”

“What did she say?”

“That she loved me.”

Oliver looked up when Digg’s words sounded strained and felt a pang of guilt because he wasn’t the only one grieving. He wasn’t the only one who’d lost someone he’d loved.

But while Digg had lost someone he loved, a part of his family, he hadn’t lost his heart.

“She also said she wanted me to watch your back,” he added. “And to make sure you watched this.”

Walking across the room to the bank of computers no one had touched since her death, Digg turned on the monitor and slipped the disc in to the drive before moving back to where Oliver sat on the floor, leaning against the concrete column in a pair of jeans and a Henley.

Thea had thrown his good black suit over his arrows in a huff as she’d stormed out of the foundry.

“Let her say goodbye, Oliver. Give her that.”

And he left.

Glancing at the screen he saw her, bright and beautiful and so alive he could almost make himself believe she was still around, still laughing and talking and arguing--God, but she was the most argumentative person he’d ever met.

Except she was wasn’t alive, she wouldn’t laugh anymore, and he’d never again hear her voice so deep in his ear it felt like she was a part of him.

Oliver pushed himself off the floor and stared at the chair no one sat in anymore. He pictured her there for a moment, letting the piece of fiction ease the grief just a little.

_Let her say goodbye._

Much more carefully than he needed to, he settled himself in her chair. If he breathed deeply, he could smell her in the leather. He couldn’t decide whether the scent hurt or healed.

Before he could think better of it, he pushed the play button.

“Well, I’ll give this to Digg, I wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to get you to watch this.”

He smiled at her voice, wiped away a tear, and watched her ponytail dance behind her as she spoke. “So I’m dead. That sucks. Like really, really sucks. I wanted more time, and I don’t think it’s out of the question to say I deserved more time but,” she shrugged, “What can you do?”

On the screen she moved forward and it occurred to him she’d recorded her video in the very same seat he sat in. It was an odd form of symmetry. He expected it to hurt, but there was a comfort in knowing despite being separated by time they shared this moment.

“I’ll tell you what you can do, Oliver. You can move on.”

He looked up sharply at her voice, his eyes meeting hers over the space of days and months.

“That’s right, you heard me. I want you to move on. Not, like, right away,” she admitted with a wry grimace. “But eventually, when the time is right. I don’t want you to tie yourself to my memory, Oliver. I love you too much to let you get away with that kind of crap.”

Her eyes softened behind her glasses and he couldn’t say how grateful he was she looked so herself in this goodbye, so completely the picture of the woman he loved.

“And I do love you Oliver, you know that. We might not have been very good at saying the words but they were there every time we looked at each other, every time we saved each other…We did, you know. We saved each other, and it was the best time I ever had.

“So don’t let that good heart go to waste. Don’t give up on love or happiness just because I’m not there. No matter what you’re thinking right now, your happiness didn’t hinge on me. And honestly, you can’t do that to me. It’s not fair and besides, it’s a lot of pressure to put on a ghost.”

Crossing her arms, she rested her elbows on the desk and leaned forward, “So this is the deal: you can’t brood for longer than a month. You can’t blame yourself for longer than six, and you can’t lock your heart up forever. I told you once you honor the dead by fighting and I was right, but Oliver, you honor _me_ by loving. By having a first kiss with someone you trust, by falling in love with someone who makes you smile, by making a commitment to someone who will stand by you the way I would have.

“And when you find her, and I know you will because-come on, look at you-Digg’s got her DVD too. I want to make sure she knows how lucky she is to have won you, to have deserved you.  No matter what you think the past has taught you Oliver, you deserved to be deserved.”

She paused, scrunched her face, “Did that make sense? Ugh, it better have because I’m not going to try and remember everything I just said so I can do a second take. The point is this, I don’t want the weight of knowing my death, however it happens, keep you from living your life and loving again. I’m dead, Oliver and we can’t change that, but you’re still alive. Now you’ve got to be the man I loved, the man I’ll always love, by being brave and by not putting away your heart. You’re living for the two of us now, so please make it count.”

And the screen went black.

She asked for the impossible. For more than he thought he’d ever be able to promise.

Oliver stood up and touched the top of the computer and let himself believe that wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she could feel him, could hear him whisper to the empty room.

“I promise.”

Because, after all, it’s like he’d ever been able to tell her no.

_\----------------_

_Two years, three months, and six days later._

She had red hair curling madly around her face.

When he’d snuck in to the bank to help free the hostages being held by members of the new and notorious Joker Gang, Oliver hadn’t immediately seen the petite woman hiding behind the counter. But when he’d landed from the ceiling vents around a blind corner, he’d her gasp behind him.

Turning and keeping his head down, he ordered her to keep quiet.

“I’m not about to start screaming,” she hissed back. “And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

He couldn’t help it, he narrowed his eyes at her sharp tone, “Helping.”

“Isn’t that what the twenty or so cops outside are for?”

“I’m working with Captain Lance,” Oliver bit out, his irritation making itself known even through his disguised voice. “Are you new to town?”

“Yes. Why?”

He ignored her question and tilted his head, “What do we have? Okay, on my signal cut the lights, Speedy and I will take care of the rest. Are you in place? On three. One, two, three.”

Thea from back in the foundry cut the lights for the bank. Oliver slid on the night vision goggles Barry had sent him a few months ago and started taking out the hostage takers one by one while Roy got the hostages to safety.

A gunshot cracked and an enormous man whose face was painted with absurdly colorful clown smile went down. When Oliver looked to his left, the redhead was holding a gun.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

He could just make out her smirk through his goggles. Moving her jacket aside, she displayed the badge hooked to her belt. 

“Helping," she answered before a shower of automatic rifle fire forced both of them to duck. As the Jokers headed towards them, she coolly shoved a new clip into her gun.

She looked at him through the dark and held out her hand. Given the situation he thought the gesture was absurdly out of place, but he reluctantly shook it anyway, “Rachel.”

“Arrow.”

“I got the skinny one on the left,” she informed him. Before she set her sights on the Joker, she flashed him a quick grin. To his surprise and irritation, he felt its warmth down to his toes. After taking down the remaining thugs, they stood side by side and surveyed the damage. She holstered her weapon with a satisfied sigh before turning to him.

“You know what? We’re going to be friends,” she informed him. “I can tell.”


End file.
